


Lonely Streets

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Where Gods Do Fear to Tread [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Inhuman Reader (Marvel), POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Sexual References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: Even Prince Charming can't ensure a happily ever after.Fourth in a part of eight responses to the "9 Months" challenge by crackleviolet on Lunaescence Archives.





	1. How It Happened

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the final (for now) entry into my dopey Avengers pregnancy series! This is the most recent one, and my least favorite of the lot. I could tell you why, but I don't want to dissuade you from reading it. Anyway, like I have said in previous author's notes, there is NOT a happy ending here. The prompt from the challenge I used here was single motherhood. Don't worry. Clint is NOT cheating on Laura with you in this story, nor is she killed to make way for you. She just doesn't exist in the universe I have chosen to tell this story. Sorry if you're a super big fan of Laura and the kids...though I'm not sure why you're reading Clint/Reader fan fic if you're that much of a stickler for them. 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this series thus far, and will join me again in the future for even MORE questionable pregnancy stories starring the likes of Bucky, Peter Parker, Natasha, and Thor!

After hours and hours of bombardment, the stone-walled room you staggered into felt suffocatingly quiet. Explosions still sent bits of ceiling crumbling down onto your head. The building rocked beneath your feet. Hundreds of high-tech HYDRA bases in Europe and _you_ had to get stuck in one from the middle ages. But finding yourself trapped in HYDRA’s oldest remaining hub was not the full extent of your terrible luck. Of course it wasn’t. You had to be _wounded_ on top of everything else. The constant shaking of the floor caused you to stumble as you made your way to the prison cot bolted to the wall.

“Mother—” you hissed. Already bleeding, your injured shoulder screamed in protest when you hit it against that same wall. For a minute or two, you had to close your eyes to keep back the swell of nausea that threatened to overturn your stomach. Since you hadn’t eaten since the siege began, you hated to think what would come up instead of food, not to mention that vomiting in that cell would _not_ improve its piss-poor ambiance.

You remembered being that exhausted only once or twice before, and those long ago. The limits of your powers were now known to you. Unfortunately, you sometimes had to push them anyway, no matter how much doing so hurt. At least, you reasoned, they’d hurt less than the bullet in your shoulder. No one wanted another Avenger with a synthetic body part anyway.

Due to how much you’d used it the past few days, your ability took much longer than usual to kick in. You sat in that room for what felt like ten minutes before the familiar, all-over, hot, static-y feeling buzzed across your skin—or what had _been_ your skin. Now your entire body from head to toe was made of a purple, translucent, gel-like material…all except for the foreign object floating exactly where you’d been shot.

That form increased your malleability, but it still hurt like hell to push your fingers inside yourself to pull out the bullet. You swore every step of the way. The direction that day was going, you half-expected to return to flesh and blood early and wind up with your hand embedded in your bones. It didn’t happen. Just when you managed to pull the item out with a disgusting squelching noise, your companion ran into the cell. He locked the door by sticking his hand through the bars before he said anything to you.

“Should make it harder for them reach us,” Clint Barton explained breathlessly, “if they don’t have firearms. What are you doing?”

“Maintenance.” You flicked the spent bullet into a distant corner. “Don’t know how much longer I can stay like this, but it stops the bleeding.”

He was in front of you in a flash. “Let me see.”

“Did you _not_ just hear me say I’m trying not to bleed out over here?”

“I have some field medic training. Besides, it’s bad for you to stay like that for too long, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t seem like what’s good for me matters anymore.”

Maintaining your alternate form became too difficult as you said that. A burning sensation swept over you. The room went a little dark at the edges, but you managed not to swoon. Good thing, too. Clint didn’t to see you in a _more_ pathetic position.

Whether or not he thought you were pathetic anyway, his hands were gentle when they touched your wound—not gentle enough to prevent you from letting out a tiny whimper, but more so than you expected. He didn’t keep his fingers there for long. Seconds later, he whipped off his jacket, took out a knife, and cut several strips of fabric from the former's bottom.

While Clint tied a tourniquet in the right place, you tried not to distract yourself by ogling his exposed arms. Every time he flashed those at you was the same. Steve might have had bigger biceps, but you preferred your men with a more normal human aesthetic, ironic though that was.

“There.” He sat back a few minutes later. “That should hold for a bit.”

“Long enough for the team to show up?” you asked hopefully.

Clint collapsed onto the cot next to you. He looked troubled, and for good reason. “I don’t think the team’s coming,” he said.

“What? Why not?”

“HYDRA has jammed every single communication I’ve tried to send out. Even the bands only Tony’s supposed to know.”

“Great. Won’t they come anyway, when we don’t come back on time?”

“Doubt it. There’s no extraction plan in place.”

“We left without an extraction plan?”

“Natasha and I never use one.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, Clint,” you said, “but _I’m_ not Natasha.”

“Funnily enough, I did. Got exceptional eyes, you know.” He pointed at his and smirked. “You’re an Avenger, same as Tasha. Means you’re on her skill level, and good enough to work without a safety net.”

“Lucky me.”

The mortars and shells continued to rock that innermost chamber. Much more, and HYDRA wouldn’t have to bother getting inside to kill you both. How had you gotten there, you wondered. You hadn’t always been some strange goo creature. If only you hadn’t taken those fish oil capsules a few years back. Then you probably wouldn’t be facing death like that—at least, not as strange a death.

“Hey.” Clint’s voice interrupted your reflections. “Before we meet our untimely ends, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“I swear to God, if you tell me you’ve always loved me—”

“Love’s a strong word. But I do like you, [Name].”

“You…do?” You’d been joking. Surely he was, too. You were both about to die and he was lightening the mood was all. Who cared if it was at your expense?

But he didn’t look like he was joking. Normally you could tell when he was. “I do,” he said, completely serious. “You’re funny; you’re strong; you’re super hot even in gel form. Always meant to ask you out. Guess now I won’t get the chance.”

“There weren’t any fancy restaurants we could visit downstairs. Not any that I saw. Maybe you spotted something with those exceptional eyes of yours?” He shook his head. You took a deep breath and let out a hysterical chuckle. “I like you, too. Have for awhile now.”

“Well, in that case…”

He leaned forward, his gaze on your lips. You backed up upon seeing this.

“What are you doing?”

“Who’s the blind operative now?” he quipped.

“Is now really the time?”

“You got a better one in mind? If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I’d rather spend my last minutes enjoying myself than contemplating my own mortality.”

You paused. Clint had a point. There was no way out of the building HYDRA hadn’t covered. He was out of arrows. Your powers had been stretched too thin. This was the end of the line, and you’d be damned if you didn’t kiss him at the end of that line, when given the opportunity.

Without speaking, you closed the space between your mouths. He tasted like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in two days. That was okay. You hadn’t either. Clint’s hands slid into your hair, your tongue into his mouth. When he tipped you back onto the bed to peel off your uniform? That time, you didn’t protest.


	2. Finding Out

The next five weeks further proved your life was nothing but one humiliation after another. _Of course_ the team showed up to rescue you and Clint. _Of course_ pulling a bullet out of your own shoulder—even without any nerves or bones in the way—did you more harm than good. And _of course_ Dr. Cho (unable to do much for your unusual genetic structure) had taken you off duty to heal.

Never one to enjoy lazing about, you spent your time in a grumpy haze. You were grateful for one thing and one thing only: bed rest prevented you from having to face Clint after your little one-day stand. He went off on an unofficial SHIELD assignment not long after you returned and hadn’t been back since. If he had anything to say to you, you figured he’d send word and he hadn’t. So that was that.

In the meantime, there wasn’t much to distract you. Tony might have been rich, but he sure hadn’t shelled out for any good streaming services at Avengers HQ. You settled that morning on a _M*A*S*H_ marathon. No sexy naked men of Westeros for _you_ , _and_ one of the characters had to have the same alias as Clint.

“[Name]?”

Just as the opening song drew to an end, Wanda drifted into your room. Her pretty face was wrinkled with worry.

“Something wrong?” you asked as you muted your television.

She shook her head, sinking slowly onto your bed, just next to where you feet were underneath the blanket. These you moved so she’d have more room. When she continued to do nothing but stare fixedly at the wall, your anxiety kicked up a notch. Due to you both being about the same age, you and Wanda had grown close during your time with the Avengers. You didn’t like seeing her upset, and the unusually pale cast of her skin _definitely_ made her look upset. Her answer (or lack thereof) was not enough to soothe you.

“Wanda.” You sat up and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Her green eyes moved to your face, though her expression had not changed. “I thought I felt someone in here with you.”

“Really? Who?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t a consciousness I recognized.”

“Didn’t Steve tell you to quit with the mind reading last time you upset Bruce?”

Wanda had the grace to look a little guilty. She knew full well you wouldn’t tattle on her, however, and did not try to save face. “I couldn’t help it this time. It was so loud. It didn’t speak any words, though. Not any that I could understand.”

“You sure you didn’t just hear Major Houlihan reaming Hawkeye out? The fictional Hawkeye, I mean.”

The quip didn’t bring Wanda any amusement. If anything, she looked _more_ concerned. Apparently this _wasn’t_ an excuse to spend time with you instead of in the boring team building meeting the rest of the group was in that day.

With a huff, you kicked away your blanket and slid off your bed. You used your good arm to pull up its skirt. “Nothing under here,” you said before walking to the closet and throwing open its doors. “Nothing here either. Need me to get in the attic and check the ceiling?”

Wanda didn’t seem to find that funny either—or at all relieving. Her eyes went wide as dinner plates. You glanced back into the closet again, just in case, but it remained empty of anyone or anything suspicious (save for the smelly uniform you still had yet to send for cleaning).

“What?” you demanded.

“[Name], the consciousness I detected is coming from _you_.”

Your heart dropped like a stone. Nerves flooded your veins. You didn’t even realize they’d activated your powers until a fog of calm descended on you.

“Dr. Cho said not to do that until your shoulder fully heals,” Wanda said sternly. Who was she to talk? But she was right.

“Sorry.”

As soon as she stopped influencing you, the panic returned. You did your best to stay in human form, but couldn’t entirely squash your emotions. In an attempt to do so, you started to pace.

“Oh my God, Wanda! A second consciousness? Are you _kidding_ me? I thought all my Inhuman stuff was over and done with!” The paperwork required to add to your government file made your head spin—not to mention the possibility of another meeting with Queen Medusa. “I can’t do this right now. I don’t _want_ to.”

Your frantic movement soon brought you within Wanda’s reach. One slender hand around your wrist was enough to pull you to a stop.

“I was wondering…” she said slowly.

“Wondering what?”

“Well, it’s really none of my business, but when we found you and Clint at that HYDRA base, you were wearing his shirt.”

Your face burned—too hot to signal any oncoming changes. This was mortification, plain and simple. “To cover my shoulders!” you blustered.

“That’s what you said.” Wanda nodded. “But did anything _else_ happen while you two were in that cell? Anything you wouldn’t want to talk about in front of Steve?”

Just as quickly as the heat had pooled in your cheeks, it drained away, leaving your skin ashen. “I might have—well, we thought—there wasn’t any extraction plan, so—Are you saying—?”

She nodded. “The second consciousness isn’t a new ability, [Name]. You’re going to have a baby.”

You gaped at her before collapsing back onto the mattress.

Then you said a very bad word.


	3. How You Told Him

“He’s here.”

Wanda’s voice was soft as it came from behind you—soft, and entirely unnecessary. You hadn’t moved from your place at your window all day. Even before your best friend decided to be the bearer of bad news, you were well aware of Clint’s arrival. You’d seen him come in via car only seconds prior. A twitch of your fingers allowed the curtains to fall closed when the top of his head disappeared into the building.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asked.

“Don’t you have a date with Vision to be getting ready for?” you answered crossly.

You turned to her just in time to watch her cheeks dust with color. “How do you know?”

“Learn to lock your door when you’re getting intimate.”

Being in human form as long as you had been pissed you off. Strange as it might have sounded to most, you identified your gel-body as your true form. You were more comfortable like that. If you stayed flesh and bone too long, you hurt. If you stayed viscous too long, worse happened than pain. It was a delicate situation not helped by not being allowed to transform for so long. Wanda couldn’t help that, but neither could you help your temper. Or maybe that came from the baby hormones. Who knew?

“How much did you see?” she wanted to know.

“Way more of his naked flesh-patterned ass than I’d like.”

"Does anyone else know?”

“Not that I’m aware of. _I_ didn’t tell anyone.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, then came to sit down next to you. You didn’t send her away even when her slender fingers entered your hair. No one else wanted to talk to you when you were so cranky, and you were desperate for company despite your mood.

“I really think you should tell him,” she said after a few minutes had passed.

“It’s none of his business.”

“But it is his baby, too.”

“So? Anyway, you and Vis can’t have children.”

“We _could_ ,” she said, absently breading your hair, “but not by accident. I’d want him to know if we did, though.”

“Because you love him. All Clint and I did was have sex the one time.”

“You don’t have feelings for him at all?”

Lying to Wanda was a futile endeavor, but you still gave it a go. “He’s hot. That’s all I feel, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”

In the face of her smile, you wondered just how much she really knew. If she was aware of how Clint’s easy grin put butterflies in your stomach. If she understood you felt safer with him than anyone else. If she suspected that you could be yourself around him without the anxiety you often felt around people like Steve or Tony or even her. But was that love? You couldn’t say.

“You’ll never know,” she said, “unless you ask him.”

Before you could come up with a semi-witty retort to this, someone knocked on the frame of your open door. Both you and Wanda looked up to find Clint standing there with one hand shoved into a pocket.

“Hey,” he said. “You two busy?”

“Actually, I was just leaving. Don’t want to keep Vis waiting.” Wanda rose to her feet and headed to the door with her typical grace. Once there, she motioned for you to get a move on. Then she vanished, leaving you entirely alone with the last person on earth you wanted to see.

You said nothing as he walked to the center of your room. There he stopped. Was it just your imagination or was he looking you up and down? All you could do was sit there and watch him with your mind a complete blank. He’d only got more handsome since your last mission, damn him, while you’d only got more _pregnant_.

“Hear you got sentenced to bed rest,” he said to break the silence.

“They couldn’t make me synthetic stuff that would transform right,” you said stiffly.

“So you haven’t got to do anything? No exercise, no missions, nothing?”

“That’s correct.”

He laughed. “That must be driving you insane.”

The smile he shot you—complete with twinkling brown eyes—made your insides do flips. To avoid looking at it, you turned back to the window. You wanted to stay angry at him, and that was hard enough without him looking at you like that!

Unfortunately, Clint didn’t get the hint. He instead crossed the room and took Wanda’s vacated spot next to you. His warm hand touched the small of your back; you had to concentrate to prevent yourself from stiffening at this gentle contact.

“Sorry I didn’t come see you sooner,” he said.

“You were doing something for Fury.”

“Yeah, but Nat could have finished that on her own.”

He started to rub small circles through your top. That was that. You looked up at him with fire in your eyes. How dare he? How _dare_ he just walk in there and act like you meant something to him?

“If it was so easy, why didn’t we hear anything from you for five weeks?” you demanded.

Clint blinked. “There was a communications blackout. I couldn’t send messages to anyone.”

“Another mission without an extraction plan?”

“Maybe they just want to get rid of me.”

You wished he would quit grinning at you like that. It felt like he was stabbing you all over with tiny knives. If he knew, he wouldn’t be joking around like that. He seemed to sense that you were upset, though, and added:

“I wanted to call you, I really did. They sent me off before Dr. Cho finished looking you over. Thought about sneaking off just to make sure things went okay.”

“I don’t want preferential treatment from you,” you snapped. The massage stopped at once.

“I know. I just thought it’d be nice if I was around to distract you.”

“You’ve done quite enough of that already, thanks.”

He sat back with a frown. “Where’s all this coming from?”

How you hated him. There Clint sat, as glib and friendly as usual. Your world (already transformed so much along with your body) was falling apart, and he thought things would just go on as usual! Luckily, you had just the thing to turn his world upside down, too.

“I’m pregnant,” you said bluntly, and were gratified to see his face drain of color. Less gratifying was his response:

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” You leaped to your feet. “I’m pregnant. There’s a _baby_ growing inside me, and it belongs to _you_.”

“You sure?”

You let out a shriek and stormed to your bed. Clint made no move to stop you. “Yes, I’m sure!” you said as collapsed onto the mattress. “Wanda can _hear_ it.”

“And it’s definitely mine?”

“Hard as it may be to believe,” the look you shot him was very dirty indeed, “I _don’t_ just sleep with any guy that can unhook my bra. Yes, I’m sure it’s yours!”

“Wow.”

After that, he didn’t say anything. You lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying very hard not to let yourself transform. Your shoulder was nearly healed, but you doubted your other form would be good for the baby either. Instead of thinking about Clint, you concentrated on the breathing exercises Bruce had taught you. Out goes the anger, in goes the calm.

Then Clint came over to you and plopped down again.

“Wow.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Guess we better get married, huh?”

His suggestion drove proper calming methods right out of your head. You sat up to gape at him, aghast. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Well, I knocked you up. It’s only right I take responsibility for it.”

“I am not your ‘responsibility.’ We had sex _once_. That doesn’t make for a stable relationship!”

“So let me get this straight: you _don’t_ want me to marry you?”

“No!”

“Huh.” He rubbed his chin. “But you still told me about the kid?”

Suddenly shy, you drew your knees up to your chest. “Well…yeah.”

“So I take it you intend to keep the baby?”

“I was planning on it.”

“And your big issue is that we don’t really have a relationship?”

“I guess.”

To your surprise, Clint broke into a wide grin. “Then it’s settled. I’ll help you raise the little guy! Or gal, as the case may be.”

“I already told you I don’t want preferential treatment,” you said.

“It’s not.” He lay down next to you and pulled your tightly wound, fleshy body against his side. “There’s still time for us to get to know each romantically, right? And if things don’t work out, the kid will still know both their parents love them.”

“Really?” Against your better judgement, your heart began to race.

“Sure. I’ve always wanted kids. Besides, I wasn’t lying to you when I said I liked you. Now I’ve got a chance to prove it.”

Hot tears filled your eyes. Embarrassed, you wiped them away. Days of worry and stress evaporated as you let yourself melt into Clint’s embrace. There would be more hurdles to overcome. You knew that. All the same, you were glad you had taken Wanda’s advice. Otherwise, you’d never have known that he still wanted to be with you.


	4. Picking Names

Dawn broke over the grounds of Avengers HQ one morning to the unusual sight of you and Wanda sharing breakfast. She was already dressed for the day; you wore workout gear. Your pregnancy meant even longer in human form than originally planned, and your resulting tantrums had forced Steve to assign you to join Bruce for yoga and meditation each day. Of course the good doctor had to have his sessions at four in the damn morning. The one upside to getting up so early was that Wanda was always awake by the time you were finished. If Vision wasn’t around, she was usually willing to eat with you.

“What about…Aspen?” you said as you tucked into a bowl of oatmeal.

“How about Lukas?” Wanda countered.

“Knowing you, you’ll want me to spell it with a ‘k.’ What do you think about Jace?”

“After that horrible boy in that horrible book?” She wrinkled her nose. “I like Rune.”

“Denver.”

“Mikkel.”

“Shawn.”

“Otto.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Steve entered the kitchen after his usual many-mile run. Even though he’d been working out much longer and harder than you had, he looked as perfect as ever. Stupid Steve. But you didn’t want him to assign you more anger management lessons for insulting him, so you held your tongue and did your best to remain civil.

“Trying to pick a name for the baby,” you answered.

He turned to you with eyebrows raised. “You find out what you’re having?”

“I had my ultrasound a few days ago. It’s a boy.”

“You told Clint yet?”

“He’s…aware,” you said evasively.

“Found any good names yet?” He pressed a button on the coffeemaker and waited for his mug to fill.

“Nothing yet.”

“I can’t convince her to go with anything from where I come from,” said Wanda.

“He’s not growing up in Sokovia. I just want him to have a nice, normal, _American_ name.”

Steve, having obtained the coffee that would do absolutely nothing to wake him, pulled out a chair at the table and took a seat next to Wanda. “If you want normal, what about Walter or Edwin?”

“I said normal, Cap, not ‘meant for an senior citizen.’”

“There are lots of people named Walter and Edwin.”

“Lots of _grandpas_ , maybe. Try again.”

“I had an older relative named Erik,” Wanda put in.

“What’s going on?” came a new voice. Bruce appeared. He blinked owlishly at your trio.

“We’re discussing possible names for [Name]’s son.”

“You’re having a boy? Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you said. That was enough invitation for Bruce to join you as well.

“Have you considered Albert?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Why are all of my friends so old and-slash-or obsessed with Germany?”

“Anthony is a good name. Not old or German, in my very humble opinion.”

“I am not naming my child after you, Tony.” When had he got there anyway? The kitchen might have been large enough to accommodate everyone, but it didn’t prevent you from feeling seriously crowded. What, was the whole team going to show up to give their thoughts about who was currently renting out your womb?

“You could have my old name, if you’d like it,” Vision said as he drifted in as well.

“It might be nice to have another Jarvis around,” Tony agreed.

“No offense,” you said, struggling to stay calm, “but I’m _not_ naming my child after a glorified butler.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes, but didn’t get the chance to scold you before someone else showed up:

“You all discussing names? _This_ I’ve got to hear.”

Natasha, too? “Who are you texting over there?” you demanded.

“Sam. He won’t want to miss this.”

“You’ve got to involve your _boyfriend_?”

“Of course.”

Sure enough, the entire team found its way to the kitchen shortly thereafter. Thor wasn’t even on the _planet_ last time you’d checked, and _he_ made an appearance as well. Everyone chattered on top of everyone else. Cold sweat broke out across your forehead. If only you could have turned into a puddle and escaped between the tiles. Since you couldn’t, you had to just sit there and take it.

“What’s everyone doing?”

They all fell silent upon spying Clint standing in the door. All of them, that was, except for Natasha, who said:

“Picking names for your kid.”

“Uh…shouldn’t I be involved in this?”

She shrugged. “You weren’t here. Jealous?”

“Kinda!”

“I believe Troels would be the most appropriate choice in this instance,” Thor declared. He was met with several vehement arguments against his decision at once. You couldn’t pick one voice out from the throng. Then:

“All right, everybody leave!” Clint shouted. Again, silence fell. “You’re freaking [Name] out. Go on. Get out.”

Mildly as he spoke, the team listened to him. They filed away, chatting amicably among themselves and clapping Clint on the shoulder as they passed him. Once the room was empty, he came to sit beside you.

“Thanks,” you said weakly.

“Don’t mention it. You really picking names without me?”

“No.” This was a bald-faced lie. Although you and Clint had gone on several dates by then and you definitely liked him, you still felt weird discussing the baby and the future with him. Like a whole lot of decisions were being made without either of your consents. Like certain choices weren’t really choices. If you did things yourself, maybe you’d stop feeling that way—but Clint wasn’t going to make it easy.

“Right.” He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “Got anything good yet?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Hmmm. You like Benjamin?”

“Benjamin Barton? Double ‘B’s? That’s cruel.”

“Hey, my brother’s Barney Barton.”

“Is that the same brother that sold you to the circus?”

“The point stands.”

“No,” you laughed, “it really doesn’t. No double ‘B’s.”

“But he’s definitely getting my last name either way?”

You colored. Why had you told him that? At this rate, Clint really would be in your life forever, and you’d never be able to shake the feeling he was with you out of pity. If you’d just gone with Anthony like Tony wanted, Clint never would have had to be involved. The cat was out of the bag, however, so all you could say was:

“I guess.”

He grinned, scooting closer to you. “Okay, then. No ‘B’s. Let me think…”

“Let me guess. Clinton Barton?”

“Absolutely not!” Clint looked horrified. “I’m not gonna saddle a kid with being a junior. What’s there to live up to here? Skylar? No, too on the nose. Hm. Thomas?”

“Thomas?” you echoed.

“Sure. Normal, right? We call him ‘Tommy.’ Nothing too formal. Just a good, solid name.”

“Tommy Barton.” The name felt right on your lips. Slowly, a smile of your own spread across your face. “I like it.”

“Good enough for now?” Clint reached down to take one of your hands in his. You settled your head on his shoulder.

“Good enough for now.”

After all, time remained before the baby was to be born. Time to get to know his father better. Time to pick the perfect name. Time for all the worries that prickled at you that morning at Avengers HQ. For the time being, though, you could put them out of your mind, and enjoy Clint’s company and care.


	5. Gone Forever

The worst thing about being pregnant did not turn out to be getting sidelined for the safety of your unborn baby. Though you hated being shut inside, you loved the little guy too much to endanger him. Nor was the worst thing not being able to use your powers. You’d kicked a bit of a fit when Dr. Cho told you no one could know what doing so would do to your kid, but he tired you out so much you didn’t want to exert the effort anyway. No, what the most awful part of your pregnancy was was being stuck all alone while the rest of the team saved the world.

For days, it had been just you and FRIDAY at the facility. Tommy (alternately called “Mark” or “Jack” depending on your mood) was there, too, obviously, but he wasn’t good company yet. You couldn’t wait for everyone else to return, especially Clint, though you didn’t want to admit that last part even to yourself.

They were due to arrive sometime that day. When, exactly, FRIDAY couldn’t (or wouldn’t) say. You had taken up your usual position at your window seat so that you could watch for the incoming quinjet. Gazing out over the land that surrounded HQ, you gently caressed the swell of your stomach. How much bigger was it going to get in the three months before you were due? And how much more Mozart would you be forced to endure?

The track on the CD Pepper lent you during her most recent visit drew to an end. Even knowing the next would start soon, you relaxed. Those few seconds were bliss. Then came again the blaring instrumentals.

“You better appreciate what I’m suffering to ensure you come out smart, kid.”

Tommy didn’t reply. He didn’t even kick.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Do we have an updated ETA for the team?”

“I haven’t received any communications from them since yesterday when they stated their intention to return today.”

You sighed. “Right.” Long ago, you’d learned that railing at her did you no good. She knew you knew she was patched through to Tony at all times. Yelling at her to drop the act wouldn’t phase her. She simply didn’t have the same personable quality that JARVIS had had before her. _Him_ you could bully into an answer, FRIDAY not so much.

Just when you’d made up your mind to try asking her _why_ Tony didn’t want you to know when he and the rest were headed home, the tell-tale whoosh of the quinjet rushed over the building.

“I believe that would be them now, ma’am,” FRIDAY announced.

“You think?”

It always took some time for everyone to finish disembarking, so you remained sitting for the rest of the song. Then you stood on your swollen, aching ankles, turned your stereo off with a verbal command (so FRIDAY was good for something other than pointing out the obvious), and trundled out of your bedroom toward the hangar bay. The normally busy halls rang with silence. Had that not been them after all? Should you have grabbed an ICEr before making your way across the base?

No attack came your way, nor did anything or anyone else. Clint typically rushed to greet you when he’d been gone for as long as he had this time, and even he remained absent. Frowning, you continued on your journey with one arm protectively held in front of your stomach. You weren’t about to let the real Mandarin—or Zemo, or Loki—get at Tommy without a fight whether you could transform or not.

But when you made it to the hangar, all was well. Your friends were there, not some group of HYDRA mooks looking for an easy target. They were too busy to notice your arrival, however. Not a single one of them looked your direction as you crept closer to where they stood.

“Hey, guys,” you said.

Wanda gasped and turned around. She had blood spattered across her face. “[Name]! What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“She means here here.” While the rest of the team looked on, Natasha took you by the shoulders and led you back the way you had come from. She, too, looked the worse for wear. Her catsuit had been torn open in a very unfortunate place.

“I came to see Clint,” you answered as Wanda trailed up behind her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Wanda was purposely blocking your vision of whatever Steve, Sam, Tony, Bruce, and Vision were busy with.

“Now’s not a good time. Wanda,” Natasha said, “why don’t you take [Name] back to her room?”

Wanda nodded and grabbed your arm, but you dug your heels in and refused to budge. “What’s going on? Why do you all look like shit?”

“Later,” Wanda said soothingly. “You need to rest.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to Clint.”

Natasha and Wanda caught each other’s eyes. Something passed between them that you didn’t understand. The latter shook her head so slightly you almost didn’t see, but then Natasha, seeming to steel herself, took both your shoulders in her hands and said in a flat, mechanical voice:

“Clint’s dead.”

You felt as though the floor beneath you disappeared. It couldn’t be true. Natasha was a known liar. Hell, she was _proud_ of how good she was at lying! If she was lying, though, why did Wanda look like she was about to start crying?

“What?” you breathed.

“He got badly hurt. Died on our way here. Bad stab wound through the chest. They had salvaged chuthari weapons.”

“But how—”

“We don’t know. I’m sorry. I should have helped him. I should have been there,” said Wanda, tears now cascading down her cheeks.

“It’s no one’s fault but the bastard who murdered him, and _I_ took care of _him_ ,” Natasha said.

You looked rapidly between them. They weren’t joking. God, they weren’t joking. Clint really was…gone. To prevent yourself from crying, you cleared your throat. “I need to see him.”

“No.”

The tone of Natasha’s voice brought you up short. You shot her a quick look. Normally pale, her skin was stark white around her shining eyes. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. It hit you: Clint might have been your—something—but he was also Natasha’s best friend. She’d known him longer. What was the point in picking a fight with her when she was clearly struggling to maintain her icy disinterest?

“He wouldn’t want you to see him like that,” she added, a little hoarsely.

Finally, you took a step back. “Okay.”

“Go sit with Wanda. When he’s ready, I’ll call for you. We’ll have a service as soon as we can, so—”

“Okay.” That was all you could say, all you could do to cover up the fact that her voice had come very close to cracking just then. She nodded her thanks before turning back to help the others. Gently, Wanda led you away, back through the quiet halls and to your empty room.

Even then, you did not allow yourself to cry


	6. Lost

After all was said and done, you felt that Clint’s service needed something _more_. What that something was exactly, you couldn’t say. More mourners? More pomp? More crying? The small, somewhat intimate funeral was just what he would have wanted. Nothing too loud or too fancy. Just like him: solid and gentle and to the point. Maybe what you thought it needed more of was simply…time.

What time remained was swiftly running out. A pile of dirt sat beside the first grave dug into the wide field next to HQ. The hole gaped like an open sore in the grass. Clint’s coffin was beside that sore, and you stood next to him. The collection of folding chairs brought out for the ceremony were empty by then. Only one other team member stayed outside with you, and that was Tony. You could hear him speaking to the little crowd of reporters that had showed up uninvited early that morning. Probably he was trying to distract them from the obviously pregnant woman staring at the deceased. For once, you were grateful for Tony’s glory-hogging. It gave you a chance to say goodbye without anyone else listening in.

Twenty minutes passed before you could look at Clint’s body. Dr. Cho had done a very good job of patching him up. If not for his flat, unsmiling mouth and unusually pale cast, you could have convinced yourself he was only sleeping. That he hadn’t opened his eyes to assure you things would be fine made any such delusions on your part impossible.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked. Who you were asking—yourself or Clint—didn’t really matter. Neither answered. That only made you angry. “You said you were going to help me with the baby. You said that even if things didn’t work out between us, Thomas would have two loving parents. You said you wanted to prove that you liked me. This isn’t doing that!”

Your hands balled into fists at your side, so tightly that your fingernails pressed half-moon shapes into your shaking palms. A hard, painful lump worked its way up your throat and stuck there as a stillborn sob. You hadn’t shed a single tear since Natasha gave you the news. For whatever reason, you just couldn’t cry. No _wonder_ Tony didn’t want those reporters anywhere near you. They already believed you were heartless; there wasn’t any need to prove it to them.

“Now he’s never going to know his father at all. He won’t know if you loved him. Hell, I don’t know. Did you? ‘Cause if you did, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself killed!”

Blood rushed to your face. You felt hot all over, but not as though you were able to transform. Getting comfortable was the farthest thing from your mind. How could you ever feel comfortable again? The one person who always made you feel like that was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Ever since Wanda led you to your room to give the others space to move Clint’s body from the quinjet, you felt like you were stuck mid-change: prickly and warm and anxious.

He couldn’t know that, though. Nor could he know how it felt to sit there and listen to Natasha and Phil and fricking _Barney_ talk about his life. His impact. His kindness.

“If you’re so kind, how come you left? Huh? If you’re so goddamn kind you could see the good in Natasha when it wasn’t there, how come you decided to leave me?”

The gargantuan knot in your throat didn’t prevent you from screaming your last question. You imagined the newshounds heard that just fine, even with Tony’s best efforts to dazzle them with his personality. Your horrible secret could now be broadcast to the world. Maybe you would care the next day, when all of Steve’s early morning news shows kept talking about the Avengers’ resident knocked-up single mother slut, but in your grief, you couldn’t have given less of a shit.

“You didn’t have to stick around, you know? I was going to raise him on my own. But you just _had_ to go and get involved. You just _had_ to make it sound like we were going to be a _family_. Do you have any idea how much harder that makes things? How much this hurts? You can’t! Because you’re _dead!_ ”

Tears filled your eyes. You blinked fiercely, determined not to let a single one fall, even as your entire jaw quivered with the effort it took to keep yourself from bawling. Sniffing, you shook your head.

“I loved you, you idiot. When I said I just liked you when we were trapped, I-I was lying, all right? I was trying to save face. I loved you, and now I’ll never know if you ever felt the same way.”

“He did.”

With a start, you turned to find Tony standing next to you. He kept his big brown eyes fixed on Clint’s lifeless face. One hand slipped into the pants pocket of his expensive suit to fidget with something there.

“How do you—”

“He told us,” Tony interrupted, still refusing to look at you. “on the way back, before—well. You know. You were all he could talk about in the end. You and the kid.”

You glanced at your swollen stomach. “Then why did he go?” you whispered.

“For what it’s worth, he tried his hardest not to. We all wanted him to make it through.” Finally, he looked you in the eye. “I don’t mean to rush you, but are you done here? I’d like to have FRIDAY call everyone out. If we wait much longer, more of these asses are going to show up to watch him buried, and Clint wouldn’t want that.”

“No," you agreed faintly. "He wouldn’t.”

So Tony told FRIDAY to call the team. While the two of you waited for them to come back outside, he quietly took your hand. The gesture of kindness surprised you. You and he butted heads more often than not, and that he would want to comfort you said just how much he understood of your hurt. So you didn’t shake him off. One by one, the rest of the Avengers arrived: Vision, Wanda, Steve, Sam, Thor, Rhodey, Scott, Natasha, Bruce, and Hope. Each one of them placed a hand on you as they came up, until you were practically cocooned in limbs by the time the first bit of dirt got tossed into the grave.

Your time with Clint, short as it was, had come to an end.

Your time with Thomas was just beginning.


	7. Kicks

Dr. Cho might as well have moved her entire facility to America by the time Thomas’ due date finally appeared on the horizon. If your temper had been bad before, it was _nothing_ compared to the anger you felt after Clint’s death. There was no escaping the weight of his absence, not when his child still grew within your womb. You could not transform. You could not do your job. All that remained to distract you was picking fights with your friends, and so pick fights with them you did.

“You know, at this rate, once you go into labor, you won’t have any unbroken limbs left,” Dr. Cho told you one afternoon, after you’d made the poor choice of trying to punch Vision in the face. You could tell that she was frustrated even though her bedside manner never wavered. You could also understand why she would be frustrated. She’d flown over from Korea five times in the last three weeks just so she could patch you up. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just looking for an excuse to see me.”

“You do fill a certain amount of the hole inside my heart,” you said.

She laughed. You were too consumed with the pain in your knuckles to crack a smile. “Have you considered talking to someone about that hole?”

“You mean like Bruce?”

“Bruce isn’t that kind of doctor. Neither am I, even if I’ve been acting as all your other doctors lately. No, I mean a specialist. A psychologist.”

“Because those are so thick on the ground around here.” Now that she was done wrapping your hand up, you pulled it to your chest. “There’s nothing to talk about anyway.”

“You’ve been through a very traumatic experience. More than one, I’d say. There’s no shame in getting help. You’re about to be a mother.”

“I already am one,” you snarled.

“In my professional opinion, you need to see a psychologist. Steve agrees with me.”

“Good for him.” With that, you snatched up your things. You were just about to storm out of the medical bay when someone appeared in the doorway that led to the hall. Dr. Cho’s warning for you to look out fell on deaf ears, and you collided with whoever decided to pop in.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” you said as the other person got back to their feet. It was Wanda. She looked no more pleased to see you than you did her.

“You hit Vis?” she demanded without preamble. _Of course_ she was only worried about her stupid impervious boyfriend. Not like running into her might have hurt your baby or anything like that.

“He was being an asshole,” you replied.

“By asking you if you wanted some help?”

“Yeah.”

Her normally soft eyes went hard. You glared right back. After a minute or so of the two of you standing like that, Wanda took a deep breath, then smiled at the watching Dr. Cho.

“Are you finished with [Name]?” she asked.

“For now,” said Dr. Cho.

“Good.” Wanda grabbed your good hand and yanked you down the hall behind her. Once you were far enough away that Dr. Cho could pretend she couldn’t hear you, Wanda whirled on you. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s the matter’ with me?” You gestured at your enormous stomach, causing Wanda to roll her eyes.

“That’s no excuse for trying to punch an innocent man.”

“I’ll punch anyone who thinks I can’t take care of myself—and it’s not like your damn boyfriend couldn’t rearrange his molecules so my hand just went through his face!”

“He didn’t expect someone to try to black his eye just because he offered to help her to a chair.”

“Well, maybe he should have. My hand is broken now, you know?”

“Oh, boohoo.”

“Hey, your precious boyfriend’s face is fine. That’s all that matters, right?”

For several minutes more, you and Wanda glowered at one another. You each crossed your arms across your chests. Just when you were starting to think that your only option for getting away from her would be to return to Dr. Cho, Wanda sighed and shook her head.

“Vis didn’t mean to break your hand. He was startled. But that doesn’t give you an excuse to treat us all like this.”

Since she was willing to uncoil, you decided to repay her kind. Her words, though, had no effect on your foul mood. “Treat you all like what?” you wanted to know.

“Like shit,” Wanda said. Her unusual choice to swear shut you down for the moment. “I know you’re upset, but you don’t corner the market in mourning.”

“I—”

“You miss him. We all do. I know it’s harder for you, but we’re all just trying to help.”

“I don’t want—”

“You will. [Name], we’re friends. You still consider me your friend, right?”

You looked away from her. “Of course I do.”

“Then listen to me.” When you continued to stare at the floor, she stepped forward to take your hand. You allowed yourself to face her again. “We’re your friends. We want to help you. I lost Pietro not too long ago. My only family. If I can't help you, who can?”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Why?”

Her question gave you pause. In the resulting silence, she watched you with her wide, thickly-lined eyes. Wanda didn’t mean any harm. You knew that. You also knew that she was still grieving over the loss of her twin brother, and that perhaps she understood what you were going through better than anyone else on the team. That was why it was so damn hard to answer. Finally, you looked back down at your feet once more.

“I just…can’t,” you said.

“Explain it to me. So I can understand.”

“I was always going to take care of him on my own, you know? That was my plan. Clint wasn’t supposed to factor in.”

“And you have a reason for that?”

“Obviously!” You freed your hand to run it through your hair. “I didn’t want to force anything out of him. If he stayed or said he loved me just because of Thomas…I’ve had enough of people pretending to care about me.”

She nodded. “Clint wasn’t pretending, though.”

“How do you _know_? And don’t feed me all that crap about him saying so at the end, or that you ‘felt’ it. You’ll say just about anything when you’re about to die. That’s something I know from experience.”

“Did you tell him anything but the truth when you trapped together?” Wanda asked softly.

“No. I mean, I hedged, but…”

“Then I don’t think he lied either. Neither of you got the chance to tell the other you loved them. It’s okay that you’re mad. What’s not okay is pushing the rest of us away.”

You looked at her with tears obscuring your vision. Her face was now a blank, blurred oval that highlighted just how blank and blurry you really felt underneath all your tantrums. Shaking your head, you tried again to make her see:

“If he’d left me alone, it would still be okay. When he said he wanted to help, then I thought I wouldn’t be alone. It’s only because he said he wanted to stick around that I hoped he would.”

“But you’re not alone,” said Wanda. “We’re all still here. Vision and I, and Hope and Tony and Bruce and Steve—everyone.”

“And what happens when you all die, too?” you asked in a hard croak.

“Oh, [Name].” Completely blinded by the water in your eyes, you assumed Wanda would leave after breathing those words. She didn’t. Instead, she embraced you, holding you against her chest with surprisingly strong arms and caressing the top of your head. “There will always be one of us here to help you—you _and_ Thomas. Okay?”

It was like a dam burst. All at once, you let out a wail that you muffled with her shoulder and neck. Tears gushed from your eyes and would not be stemmed. You gripped Wanda as though she were the only thing keeping you afloat in a choppy ocean. She really was, after a fashion. After all that time, she shouldn’t have had to say she’d be there for you, but she did anyway, and that meant enough to get you sobbing in earnest for the first time since Clint’s demise.

Wanda simply held you like that until at last your crying gave way to sniffles and hiccups. How long that took, you couldn’t really say. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. All you knew for sure was that her neck and shoulder were both soaked when you finally peeled away.

“Better?” she asked as she patted you on the back.

“A little,” you answered weakly.

“Enough to quit going around punching people?”

“If by ‘people,’ you mean your—oh!”

“Oh?” Wanda frowned. “What is ‘oh’?”

In some kind of wonder, you placed your unbroken palm flat against your swollen stomach. The same sensation that interrupted you before came again. “I think—I think he’s kicking!”

She squealed. “May I feel?”

“Go ahead.”

Wanda didn’t wait to make sure you wouldn’t change her mind. She set her own hand just above yours. You both waited with bated breaths. Several seconds passed, then:

“I felt it!” Wanda cried.

“Do you feel anything else?”

“Not as well as others, but,” she smiled, “I think he’s _happy_.”

You closed your eyes. Happy. That emotion felt far off to you. But what did that mean for Thomas? His happiness was far more important than your own. Right then and there you vowed that no matter how you felt yourself about his father and your situation, you’d make sure your son stayed as happy and as safe as he could from that moment on.


	8. What Doesn't Kill You

The big day arrived without fanfare, without celebration, and without grief. You meditated with Bruce, took a shower, and gathered your things without speaking a word to anyone. In part, your silence was because hardly anyone else was up so early. Really, though, you were just worried you’d shout at anyone that crossed your path. Pregnancy had not improved your temper; not being allowed breakfast that morning made it even worse. Standing outside waiting for your Uber alone really was better for everyone.

“Running away from home?”

Wanda exited the building and made a beeline to where you stood. You supposed she was referring to the little pile of luggage by your feet—all things you needed for a several-day stay at a hospital, and thus no reason to dignify her teasing with a response.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked instead. “I thought you and Vision had a standing play date about this time.”

“He’s training with Steve today. I told him I have plans.”

“What kind of plans?”

She blinked. “You’re getting induced today. You told us two weeks ago.”

“Sure, but I didn’t think anyone was _listening_.” She shot you the look she reserved for your silliest pity parties, and that time you recognized that you deserved it. “Sorry. I just meant I didn’t expect it to be a big deal.”

“Maybe not to everyone, but even Tony would start to wonder where you’d gone off to in few days.”

“After all the time I’ve spent holed up in my room? I doubt it.”

With a chuckle, Wanda linked her pinkie with yours. You tried not to reveal how relieved the gesture made you feel. All the screaming matches over the past few weeks hadn’t made you terribly popular with the rest of the team. At least your trying not to punch people was enough to get you back in _her_ good graces. Before you could begin a clumsy attempt to express your thanks for all the support she'd offered, the doors to HQ opened again, and out stepped Natasha.

“Morning,” she said as she, too, walked over to where you were waiting.

“Why are _you_ here?” you asked.

Natasha shrugged. “Same as you, I expect. Hitching a ride to the nearest hospital.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” she cut across you. “Clint would have wanted to be there. He can’t, so I will.”

All you could do, in the light of her casual explanation, was nod. Clint _should_ have been there. You still kept thinking that. Every kick, every twinge, every gained pound made you remember that he should have been there to experience it all with you. Would there ever come a time when you wouldn’t feel his absence? If Thomas grew up to look like his father, you’d never know a moment’s peace.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Wanda’s voice brought you back to your present reality. You raised your eyebrows.

“I think it’s too late to consider an abortion,” you answered.

“No. I meant…you could have him here. We’ve got the equipment. You don’t have to leave.”

“I think Dr. Cho will be glad to be rid of me for a few days.”

“What if the kid comes out like you, though?” Natasha asked.

You’d almost forgotten that she was there. Prior to Clint’s death, you and Natasha didn’t spend much time together off the clock. Even living in the same building and working the same jobs, there wasn’t much you had in common. Lately, however, she’d been hanging around you a lot more often, mostly without speaking or joining in whatever you were trying to do. All of that still wasn’t enough to get you used to her presence.

“Thomas won’t cause any problems.” You gave your stomach a pat. “He’s Inhuman, and hasn’t been anywhere near a Terrigen Crystal yet. He’ll come out just like all the other boys and girls. The doctors won’t have any idea he could be something more.”

“And you?”

“Well…” You couldn’t entirely suppress the evil grin that twisted up the corners of your mouth. Dr. Cho had already given the issue some thought. Since transforming did nothing to change the nature of your blood or other bodily fluids after the fact, there was no reason to believe it would change your breast milk either.

“[Name],” Natasha said warningly.

“I’ll guard the door,” Wanda put in.

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but you shifted your hand to squeeze all of Wanda’s fingers. _‘Thank you,’_ you mouthed.

Undoubtedly, Natasha saw that (and could read lips). She didn’t get the chance to tell either of you off, though. As soon as she opened her mouth, your Uber car pulled up to the curb. Her lips clamped shut, then she grabbed your closest bag and tossed it into the backseat.

“Let’s get all this packed before Tony looks outside and sees you called an unverified stranger to pick you up on base instead of just taking the jet.”

“If I took the jet, that would give me away!” you protested as Wanda joined in cramming your luggage into the idling vehicle.

“Because you transforming for the first time in ten months won’t,” Natasha said.

“Wanda’s keeping a look out!”

Less than five minutes later, the three of you sat side by side surrounded by all the things you’d need after giving birth. The Uber pulled away from the building to speed back up the path it had come in on. Inside your womb, Thomas waited for his opportunity to see the outside world. It wouldn’t be much longer before you got your first real look at the kid, too. Would he really look like Clint? Would you be able to tell so soon?

Wanda slipped her fingers between yours again, and you let out a shaky breath. Even Natasha offered you a sympathetic smile. Thomas was a lucky boy. Maybe he’d be missing a father, but in exchange, he got two of the most kickass aunts in the world. His birth would still be painful—in a number of ways—but knowing the other two women would be there made you think you might get through it with your sanity intact.


	9. Welcome to the World

Two days later, an entirely different car made its smooth way up the road to Avengers HQ. You, Wanda, and a sleeping Thomas sat in the back. Natasha—who had insisted upon getting you home in a more secure manner than the one you’d left in—drove the dark vehicle straight up to the front doors, and parked it there. Heart pounding, you opened your door and stepped outside. How you had missed that place. Clearly, your hormone levels weren’t exactly back to normal yet, since you teared up just seeing the building. God, you’d only been away for about forty-eight hours!

“Go on in, [Name],” Wanda said. “We’ll get the stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Just don’t forget the kid,” Natasha said as she got out, too.

You grinned, then turned back to unlatch the many straps that held Thomas in his car seat. He stirred. When you pulled him into your arms, he opened his big, blue eyes. Already you knew what that look preceded. Hastily you summoned the familiar burning sensation that beckoned your change, and his tearful expression disappeared at once.

“I still think it’s weird that he likes that,” Natasha remarked.

“He just knows what his mommy really looks like. Don’t you?” You kissed him on the forehead, then held him carefully against you.

“I think it’s weirder that she’s already in full mommy-mode,” Wanda said.

Normally a comment like that would have sent you into an unreasonable rage. You could not, however, pick a real fight with your son in such close proximity. Besides, Wanda was right. It had taken all of one minute of looking at him for the baby to completely sucker you in. There wasn’t a single thing you wouldn’t do for him, and that included trying to be a little more mellow now that he was on the outside.

“I’ll see you guys inside?” you asked.

“We’ll be there in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

With Thomas held securely in your arms, you walked into HQ. You had to concentrate to make sure you didn’t press the little guy hard enough against you to get him stuck inside your gelled shoulder. Lucky for you, there wasn’t anything to distract you during your walk to your bedroom. The rest of the team must have been out on a mission or something because no one popped up to greet you. Even FRIDAY had nothing to say about your arrival.

That was all fine with you. Giving birth and returning to your natural state might have improved your attitude, but you didn’t want to put that to a real test just yet. Wanda and Natasha’s company was one thing; Tony and Steve’s were another. You also weren’t quite ready to have everyone coo all over your baby. He _was_ the cutest thing to ever exist, of course. More people deciding whether he looked more like you or Clint, though…

“Welcome home!”

You stumbled (thank god not literally) right into an ambush. Some sort of surprise party was set up in the main sitting area just before the hall to the rooms. The entire team crowded inside—even those that typically did their hero-ing in California. An impressive mound of wrapped gifts surrounded a table laden with snacks and a singular round cake coated in pale blue icing. Above all this hung a beautiful hand-painted banner that read, “IT’S A BOY!” Steve’s work, you could tell at a glance.

“What the hell is all this?” you demanded.

“Your baby shower. Squeeze out the rest of your brain cells along with that baby?” Tony said, shoving a fluted glass of some sparkling (non-alcoholic, presumably) beverage into a couple of your fingers of the hand you were using to prop up Thomas’s head.

“Don’t people usually have these _before_ the baby arrives?”

“Forgive us.” Vision floated up. “We were somewhat afraid you might not take kindly to our gifting you with diapers earlier.”

Your lips quirked up in a tiny smile. “Fair enough. I know I was a real bitch to you—”

“There is no need to apologize. Wanda has explained everything.”

“ _Did_ she?”

Scott pushed his way through the throng before you work out just what Wanda had told her boyfriend, and whether or not her getting him to forgive you pissed you off. Not far behind trailed Hope, though she kept her distance even when Scott eagerly stepped forward.

“Can I hold him for a little bit?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “I just…I really like kids.”

“He really does,” Hope said.

“I’m a dad. Got a peanut of my very own back home. I promise I won’t drop him.”

In the end, his earnest expression was too much to refuse. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas. If he even came close by accident, you trusted Hope would take care of things. Besides, your arms _were_ getting pretty tired and it was about time you put your skin back on. You carefully passed Thomas over with a warning:

“He doesn’t like flesh people much yet.”

Scott only laughed. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along great. Won’t we, big guy? Yes, we will. Who’s a handsome man? Look just like your mama, don’t you?”

Hope rolled her eyes at you, but you could tell she meant the gesture affectionately. Thomas would be fine while you grabbed a slice of cake. You left him in Scott and Hope’s capable hands. How could anyone tell who the baby looked like yet, you wondered as you made a beeline for the table. His real hair hadn’t come in yet and his eyes were still blue. As much as you loved him, he looked like all newborn babies did: like a smooshy nugget of leaking flesh. It would be some time yet before you could decide which parent he looked more like—even though Wanda had made the same claim as Scott.

Speaking of, she appeared at the party just as you finished your food. She looked quite pleased with herself, too, as she stepped over to where you were sitting and getting ready to open one of your gifts.

“You knew about this,” you said.

Her smile grew. “Of course I knew about it. I’ve been wanting to throw you a shower for months. Vis just thought you wouldn’t like it.”

“So he said.”

“Where’s Tom?”

“Getting all the love and adoration he deserves. They’ll give him back to me when he poops himself, I expect.”

She laughed. You looked at all of your friends milling around the room, laughing and talking among themselves. They were all there for you, each and every one of them. As you watched Steve nervously take his own turn holding Thomas, you felt just a little less alone. Clint was gone, but you hadn’t lost everything. In fact, you’d gained the most precious person you would ever know, and a greater understanding of just what your friendship with the rest of the Avengers meant. Maybe that wasn’t exactly a fair trade, but it was one you thought you could learn to live with a little better each and every day.

THE END


End file.
